Once, we were all stars
by upindastars
Summary: I was just helping out a friend when I was attacked. Thankfully, someone noticed my situation and came to my rescue. After receiving a cold shoulder and driving home in the dead of the night, I couldn't get my rescuer out of my head. Will I ever see him again? Will he ever stop being in my dreams? What will I even say when I discover my mystery rescuer? Did I mention he's a cop?
1. Chapter 1

I was walking up towards the famous 'Nite Club' in downtown Seattle at around one in the morning. No, I'm not that kind of girl. But my best friend, Christine, is. And I'm here after I received an unwelcome phone call begging me to come pick her up. I love her dearly, but some people have work in the morning and can't be woken up every time you want to party an hour from where you live. Yes. We live in Tacoma, Washington. In the same neighborhood. And she decided to take the Sounder train up to Seattle to hit the night clubs without a plan to get home afterwards.

Except she did have a plan. Me.

So here I am. Freezing my ass off to go rescue a drunk woman from walking who knows where when the club decides to close. I may be grumpy, but I am a good friend.

As I pass a few drunk people, I take notice of their expressions. They are looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. I don't blame them. The guys have hot women hanging off of them and I'm here with my hair in a bun, fresh faced, and in my fluffy pink pajamas. Doesn't that sound like the sexiest appearance ever? Well, what do you expect from someone who was rudely awakened at an ungodly hour by a drunk friend?

I get past the bouncer explaining I'm just here to collect my best friend and don't plan to stay. I head inside the loud, obnoxious, and seizure causing lighted building in search of a certain blonde.

It isn't very difficult to find her. She has always been the popular one. Being able to get along with everyone she comes across with. But she is also a huge flirt. If you are a hot man with promise, you can bet she has at least tried to get in your pants and probably succeeded.

I try not to judge my best friend as it is her life and she can do as she pleases, but I can't help but roll my eyes as I see her giving a very pleased looking guy, a lap dance. And might I add, a very poor one at that, given she is wasted.

I sigh as I realize she is at the far end of the building. That means, me and my fluffy pink pajamas get to walk through the club of scandalously dressed women and hot, sweaty guys. Talk about embarrassing.

As I briskly walk across the floor, I try not to notice the judgmental looks everyone is giving me. I keep my head low, and hope she doesn't disappear from her current location before I can reach her.

Thankfully, she doesn't. And as I approach she hops off of the suddenly sad guy and gives me a drunk hug and kiss to the cheek.

"You made it! Oh, how could I ever repay you!" Christine nearly yells in my ear. It is so loud in here.

"Let's go." I yell back at her.

She nods and sways over to retrieve her coat and purse. She is so drunk, I almost have to carry her across the floor and out the door to my car.

Since I was distracted with carrying Christine, I failed to notice the guy she was 'entertaining' following us.

"Hey!" I hear behind me.

"You can't just leave. I didn't get my money's worth!" He slurred at us.

I set my half unconscious friend on the curb next to my vehicle and turn to the obnoxious guy I now have to deal with.

"Get lost, perve. Can't you see she's half unconscious? Leave or I'll call the cops." I exclaim to the drunk guy.

He looks at me as he processes what I say with a dumbfounded and confused expression. But it only lasted for a second as he quickly becomes angered at my words.

"PERVERT! YOU DON'T KNOW ME LADY! I PROBABLY MAKE MORE MONEY THAN YOU, YOU FILTHY SLUT!..." As he was finishing his angry rant, he lunged forward towards me.

That night is the night I realized, you should never acknowledge a drunkard. Especially males. They can be easily angered.

He lunged forward in the intents of grabbing at my throat. And just as he made contact with my skin, I felt petrified. I couldn't move. I was scared shitless and couldn't think. All that was running through my head was that I was going to die. He's obviously much larger than I am and much stronger. And to top it off he is angry and is drunk. And he has death in his eyes, and a petrified woman pinned against a building without a soul in sight.

But just as fast as he grabbed me by the neck, he was on the ground. As I regain my thoughts and my breath I realized that he was tacked to the ground by man much larger and muscular than he was. I didn't see where he came from.

He pinned the drunkard down and started beating him. I yelled for him to stop. And grabbed at his massive shoulder. Yes, I wanted the drunkard to be beaten up, but he was drunk. He probably has no control of his actions and to be honest, I already forgave him.

At my one touch, he softened. He didn't let go of the now bloody drunkard, but he stopped the blows to his head.

I spat out a thank you. I didn't know what to say. I admired the way he came to my rescue but I was also somewhat terrified at his strength.

He didn't say 'you're welcome' like I had expected, but instead said: "You should get yourself and your friend out of here."

He then proceeded to grab a pair of handcuffs out the back of his worn out jeans and cuffed the drunkard while telling him his rights. Or attempting to at least. I doubt the man was cognitively there.

I back up slowly toward my vehicle and helped my best friend, who was now watching me like a drunk hawk, into the backseat. I turned around to thank my rescuer and instead watched as he walked off toward a black SUV with the drunkard in cuffs.

I didn't run up to him. We didn't have a rescuer and rescued kiss like in the movies and books. He took off in his SUV and soon afterwards, me in my car. In fact, he headed toward North Seattle, and I went South, toward Tacoma.

And through the whole entire car ride, I couldn't stop shaking. Christine had fallen into a peaceful slumber in the backseat, being of no use to my comfort.

I couldn't stop thinking about the events that had just occurred. The drunkard's hands around my neck, the unknown man tackling him to the ground, the cold shoulder of my rescuer. It was all very confusing and I can't wrap my head around what happened.

Obviously the man was a cop, a very good looking cop, but indeed a law-enforcer.

As I'm driving, millions of questions roll through my head. What was he doing there? Why was he dressed in civilian clothes? And if he's a cop, shouldn't he have just put the drunkard in cuffs right away instead of beating him up first?

As I pulled up to my best friend's apartment complex, I still couldn't think of answers to those questions but resigned to the fact that the drunkard is now probably behind bars, and my mystery rescuer will continue to be... a mystery.

After all, I'm not one to dwell on the past. Right?


	2. Chapter 2

It has been two months since the incident at the Seattle nightclub. And while I've somewhat gotten over the recurring nightmares of the drunkard's terrifying hands. However, I couldn't get my mystery cop out of my head.

I'm curious. I want to know his name. I want to thank him, in any way possible. But I haven't a clue as to who he is. No badge number, an ordinary SUV, and no clear picture in my head as to what he looks like makes it impossible to even try to track him down.

So instead he stays in my head. In my daydreams.

And I have to say, my daydreams have been quite naughty. I keep thinking of his muscular back, and flexing biceps and triceps. I kept thinking about his dark flowing hair and his chocolatey eyes looking at me. There's this look he gave me that is engraved in my head. His eyes soft, showing sympathy and shows a character of kindness. But his eyebrows and his thin lips showing anger and dominance at the same time. It wakes me want to reach out and smooth the lines on his forehead and kiss his lips to make them release its tension instead of running away afraid. I just want to relieve him of all of his problems. But alas, I can only do such things in the confinements of my dreams.

Currently, I am sitting among hundreds of people, in remembrance of the fallen soldiers of World War II. I haven't any relatives who served and/or passed, so I am only here in support of a colleague, Samuel, who lost his grandfather in the war. He didn't want to attend alone, so I gladly accepted his offer to attend.

I looked over at him, I can clearly see the sad expression in his facial features. But I can also tell he is trying to keep it together for his grandfather. I grab his hand, give it a light squeeze and when he looks at me, I give him a comforting smile.

We both turn back to the speaker, as the man taps on the microphone to gain control of the audience.

"Thank you all for joining us today as we give thanks to all those who served us and protected us in World War II. There aren't enough words to express how thankful we are and how much we appreciate their sacrifice."

I scan the room. There are many women crying, possibly wives and daughters. The men looking stiff and attempting to comfort their female family members. I feel sadness and I feel the need to sympathize with everyone here, but I haven't lost anyone personally and cannot begin to try to relate to their pain.

I look down at my lap and try to listen to the man at the podium.

"...let's go ahead and take a look at this prepared presentation of photos of those we have lost." I look up just as he walks off the stage and the lights dim in the auditorium.

A picture pops up of a young man, probably in his early teens, enjoying the sun at a beach. A cry is heard from a woman toward the front.

Next, there is a picture of a man about twenty three sitting atop a military tank (I don't know the exact details as I haven't a clue about these kinds of things).

I smiled sadly. These pictures are the only thing that is allowing us to remember their faces.

I look at Samuel, as a lone tear rolls down his cheek. He notices that I'm looking at him and quickly wipes away the tear and pretends it never happened. He likes to pretend he doesn't cry. I wish he would let it all out. I wish he felt comfortable enough to show sadness. But I let it go. This isn't the time or place to bring up that.

As soon as I look up at the screen I can see my rescuer looking right back at me. Albeit, it isn't exactly him, but he could definitely be his brother. I stared at that image on the projection screen, and felt a ping of lost when the image changed. If my rescuer is in any way related to that fallen soldier, then perhaps he is in this room right now!

My heart starts beating fast, and my breathing started getting shallower. Not because I'm scared. But because I'm nervous and excited at the same time.

I quickly scan the room. Turning my head around at an alarming rate that I don't actually process what I'm seeing. Samuel looks at me questioningly.

"I'm going to look for a restroom." I whisper to him.

I get up and try to quietly exit the auditorium but scan the audience at the same time. I see no signs of my mystery rescuer and sigh as I head out to main foyer in search of a bathroom.


End file.
